


Rosalie

by Deteriotech (curseofbunny)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, F/F, F/M, Horror, Road Trips
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseofbunny/pseuds/Deteriotech
Summary: She wakes up, covered in blood in the back of a stranger's car, no memories of who she is or what she's doing there. She has two options. Trust him and what she tells her, or find out what happened back in Hollywood that fateful night.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Rosalie

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags ^^ an original work and a wild ride, based on a dream I had.

The streetlights flicker over the backseat evenly, beat for beat with the rocking of car over the highway. By her guess, it's 2 am on an old highway, with no one else around. The girl waking up in the backseat of the volvo has no idea what’s going on, whose car it is, or why she would be driving around.

The man in the driver’s seat glances at the rear view mirror when he notices her shifting around. He had tousled red hair and a business suit, dark marks under his eyes like bruises. He cracks a smile at her through his reflection.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

She sits up slowly. Something slides down her torso, until she realizes that her blanket had been his suit jacket. It had a few stains on it, which, after some belated staring, she realizes are from her own clothing.

She was wearing pajamas, a tank top and pair of capri pajama pants with clouds and moons on them. Or, rather, she thought they were. It was hard to make out through the blood and dirt.

Her whole body felt sore. Her feet were stained, her nails had something crusted under them, her clothing and hair felt… sweat-damp from a nightmare she couldn't remember and grimy from the rest of it.

She couldn't picture how it looked.

She looked up at the driver again. He definitely wasn't older than thirty, but he was older than her. Her stomach flipped.

"Where are we?"

"I-10 eastbound. 30 min from 1-15."

"Where are we going?"

"East."

"Who are you?"

That finally made him pause. He looked at her in the mirror for a long minute, then turned his blinker on and took the next exit.

She didn't expect that.

Her stomach rolls as they go under the overpass. She puts a hand over it and bites her lip.

It just rumbles.

"You hungry?" He offered.

She nodded.

He pulled into a gas station, parking just far enough from the doors that the light didn't reach. He comes to the back and opens the door for her, looking her over.

"You… look like shit."

She frowned.

"That's not very nice."

The man shakes his head and leans in close. Her eyes widen as his lips and cheek brush against hers until… the suit jacket is thrown over her shoulders, and his deft fingers button it close.

"What's this for?" She looks up at him.

"This? So we don't just walk into the gas station with you looking like Carrie. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

She didn't have a good argument against it, so she followed him.

Luckily for him, the bathrooms were on the side of the building. He takes a second to decide before they go into the women's restroom.

It's dingy, with flickering yellow fluorescent lights and gray-blue tiles. Three stalls, one with an out of order sign on it.

The man sighs and rolls his sleeves up. He pushes her back until her thighs bump the back of the counter for the sinks, and she gasps in pain.

He frowns and takes her elbow, twisting her and pulling the back of the jacket up. "Are you hurt?"

The girl found the counter to hold herself still. "I… I'm not sure."

"May I check?"

She closed her eyes. "Please."

He uses one hand to hold the suit jacket up, the other hooking in the top of her pajama pants and slowly tugging them down. They stick to her skin in some places, and pulling them free hurts. But… after a minute, her pajamas are falling to her ankles, and it's just him, looking at her underwear and the backs of her thighs.

"Rosalie…" he murmurs.

The girl tips her face forwards so that her hair hides her expression.

"There's a bunch of wounds here." He clears his throat. "I'll wipe them clean, but we'll stop at a motel and get you cleaned up. That alright with you?"

She nodded. "I just want it to stop hurting."

There's fingers on her skin.

She shifts, a shiver going down her back.

"I'll do my best."

He spends a few moments with wet paper towels then, wiping the blood away from her scabs and scars- they hurt too bad, they had to be fresh- and holding her still. When he was done there, he stooped down to pick up her pants and pull them back around her hips. Then he turned her around again.

She opened her eyes slowly at him.

He used more wet paper towels to wipe down her face. She can't argue that she didn't need it, because as the grime gets pulled from her face, she starts to slowly feel better.

"What happened to me?" She asks.

He narrows his eyes with concentration. "What do you mean?"

"Why am I… covered in blood? Why am I hurt?"

"Do you remember anything?"

She shook her head.

It wasn’t a lie.

She remembered that she was 5'3, or around there. She remembered that she didn't like being awake too late, but that she took a lot of late nights anyways. She could tell from the flyaway curls that occasionally got into her face that her grimy hair was a reddish orange, and she thinks that it's natural because she doesn't remember ever dyeing it.

She doesn't remember who she is.

She doesn't remember him.

She doesn't remember how she got here, what happened to her, or what the twisting feeling of discomfort in her gut is for.

He pressed his palm to her forehead.

"Clammy… you really just need a warm shower and some rest." He clucked his tongue. "How about this. I saw a motel up the road, we'll stop for the night. Get some food first, then buy a night, and we can talk. Sound good?"

The girl nodded. She didn't see much of an option either way.

He helps her right herself and become presentable again, though not before pulling something out of his pocket and pulling some of her hair back, putting it in a lazy bun.

As he steps away, she looks to the side and breathes in slowly. She didn’t like his cologne.

Was that something she had smelled before?

The man leads her to the front of the gas station. Entering, he stoops down to grab a battered clearance easter basket. "Anything that fits in here," he looked her over for a second. "Is yours."

She looks between the two. "Like… you're buying, or?" She asks slowly.

"Yes!" He pats the top of her head, which isn't hard because he's nearing six feet tall. "I'm buying you dinner."

That was all the confirmation she needed. She took the basket and made a beeline.

She hit the cold case of sandwiches, finding the one in the back that was made most recently. Then she studies the yogurt for a second before grabbing one as well, along with a big package of chopped up fruit that looked a little sad but would taste delicious.

Next, she went to the wall of drinks. Orange juice, lemonade, two of the big bottles of sweet tea, and one of the big bottles of soda. She then grabbed two cans of chef boyardee and a few cup ramens, switching the basket to her other arm.

Next was candy. She went for the big bags. No chocolate, it'd melt. Finally, two big bags of barbecue chips haphazardly balanced on top. She hesitated for a second, then went back to find one of the big glass battles of lemonade.

She was planning on keeping that one to refill with water.

She felt proud for a second as she looked at her haul. Then she noticed a display near the sunglasses.

Cheap clothes. Like, clothing intended to be for tourists, that was invariably of cheap fabrics and would look ridiculous among high fashion circles but look great on someone posing with a cactus-shaped purse and thigh high boots.

She grabbed a huge purple hoodie with the word "California" plastered on the front, and a pair of pale pink short shorts. There weren't any other options available. She slid them both under the bags of chips.

As she came back, she realized the man hadn't moved.

"Something wrong?" She frowned.

"You just… know this place really well. I wouldn't have found any of that." He shook his head gently.

"All these chains are the same inside. Are we buying or not?"

He nodded, gesturing for her to set the basket down and let the clerk start ringing the items up. While she does, he finally moves to grab a big box of crackers, a cold coffee from the drink fridges, and a water bottle.

He doesn't even look at the total as he pays.

She might not know much about herself, but she knows that she's never been able to do that.

The clerk gives them a big paper bag and he takes it. The girl's feet sting on the pavement outside, but now that she thinks about it…

She's starving.

She doesn't wait for him to start driving before she opens one of her bags of chips.

He looks at her for a second before starting the car again.

He doesn't get back on the highway.

"So where are we going now?" The girl raises an eyebrow.

He nods to a big neon sign down the road. "It's late. We need to get some sleep."

The girl looked over herself. "Can you make sure to ask for extra soap?"

He ruffled her hair gently. She leaned into the touch.

She stays in the car while he buys a room. She doesn't want to snoop too much, but sitting in the front seat her feet bumped into something and she had to. She kicked them out from under the seat and blinked in surprise.

A worn pair of purple slides. Like, the flip flop type of shoe, but no between-the-toes part.

She slips her feet inside slowly.

Perfect fit.

The door opens and she jumps a bit in surprise, hand touching her heart. She breathed out a long breath. "Wow. You scared me."

He flashed her a smile. "We're all the way at the end. C'mon, I'll drive the car in front of the suite."

It was a cheap motel. Outdoor walkway, some trees and bushes that looked like they needed water, cigarette butts littering everywhere.

At the same time, she can't wait to get a shower and pass out. Her limbs feel heavy and her wounds feel sore. But… she needs to eat too. She can eat the sandwich, yogurt and orange juice tonight, the fruit should be good until morning.

She wishes she knew more about her situation, but… the man's mood seems to be getting lower and lower.

He unlocks the door as she grabs the bag from the gas station. She steps inside.

Two beds. A small bathroom at the back wall. A mini fridge. Nice.

She takes a minute to hide the refrigerated food away, then fidgets and looks up at him.

The man pulls out a pack of cigarettes, getting one ready.

She clears her throat.

He looks at her.

"Is it okay if I take a shower and eat?" She tried to maintain eye contact.

He shrugged. "Sure. I'll get the bloody clothes and toss them when I go on a walk?

She froze. He wasn't…

He opened the door a crack and lit the cigarette, sucking in the nicotine before blowing some smoke out of the room.

He was serious.

Discomfort clawed up the back of her throat.

"Yeah." Her voice was small. "Course."

She stooped down to grab the hoodie and shorts. There was a towel sitting on the bathroom counter, but she didn't want to wrap up in it and get it dirty before she even showered.

She closed the door while she stripped, careful to peel the layers off. Tank top, pants and underwear, all crumpled up in his blazer.

She held the ball of fabric outside the door, pressing it closed with her other hand

When he takes it, there's a muffled 'thank you' from the other side.

Then he knocks.

She opens it to peek out, hiding behind the door.

"I'm going on a walk. I'm going to lock the door behind myself, but if I'm not back by the time you finish eating, just go to bed. Okay?"

The girl nodded. "So… you're really not going to tell me anything yet?"

He reached one hand through the crack in the door to ruffle her hair. She closes her eyes at the contact, then relaxes into it.

"We can talk tomorrow, okay?" He flashes her a grin. He's got a nice smile, like someone asking you to sign an NDA or something.

"Okay…"

And then the smell of cigarette smoke is gone. She waits for the door to open, shut, and lock. 

She takes a deep breath.

She looks at herself in the mirror.

She's… bony. And skinny. Her hips are soft when she pinches them, but otherwise she doesn't know what to think about her body.

She does notice that her eyes are yellow. She's almost pretty.

She steps into the shower and gets clean.

She puts her new clothes on and eats the leftover food.

She's bored.

She's tired.

The only notable thing about falling asleep is that she thinks someone kisses her hair.


End file.
